Grace
by Kellie Wallace
Summary: This is still a work in progress. Based on Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2, Soap MacTavish, his wife visits him on base


The English base over the last few days had become a haven of excited whispers and joy as a handful of troops organized the wife of their captain, John "Soap" MacTavish to arrive.

Saddened by the loss of men under his command, MacTavish had fallen into an abyss of depression, shielding his handicap by delving into his work. The men knew the presence of his wife, whom he hadn't seen for 6 months, will most definitely bring him out of his hole.

It had been a mammoth task taking up the men's own time for over a month, sneaking behind closed doors, whispering in alcoves, always keeping an eye out for the man in question. They knew MacTavish suspected nothing, hoping this surprise will do him some good.

On the day of his wife's arrival, his best friend, Simon "Ghost" Riley, made a direct request to their commanding officer John Price to distract Soap while they usher in his wife. "It's like we are bringing in a huge VIP," Price said. Ghost simply laughed, "We are."

Price had agreed, knowing he cared for the mental stability of his men. He found Soap cleaning his Intervention sniper rifle later that morning. He took a seat next to him, not knowing exactly what to say. "You did a great job in that mission," he fished, cursing himself for his lack of knowledge of small talk. He looked over at his comrade to see if he had caught guard of his foolery, only to notice a small smile had curved at the side of his mouth. "What's up Price, you're never one for appraisal."

_Damn, he had noticed._

Price did a quick glance around the room in which they sat, angered by the growing crowd eager to witness the appending visit. "I know I don't express my gratitude towards you men sometimes and..."He took a deep breath, noticing the figure of Ghost coming towards them, aided by a small army of men. Relief swam through Price, one more minute and he probably would have blurted it out.

By this time, Soap had noticed the large group of men coming towards them also and he placed his sniper rifle to the side. "What's going on Ghost?"

His friend smiled and said, "We have a surprise for you."

The men parted like the red sea, revealing a vision in white emerging behind them. She looked like an angel, staring at him with those big eyes.

"John."

When she reached him, she looked at him, searching his face for the man he was before he left. She searched those deep pools of blue, the face that had hardened, his black hair cut into a Mohawk digging to find the slightest flash of old recognition. Then she found him.

"Grace."

He welcomed her into his arms as she kissed him. John felt her melt into him secretly relishing the soft moan she gave when he placed two strong hands against her back. He had almost forgotten what she felt like in his arms, her smell, her taste, and the way her body responded to his touch. She was like heaven and John never wanted to let go.

For so long and for so many nights, he stayed awake thinking of the beautiful woman he left behind, hoping she would still love and remember him when he returned.

It was her love that kept him going, despite so many fall backs and close calls. He knew he had to keep going, to survive...for her.

"Soap, care to introduce me?"

Reluctantly, John drew in a breath and turned to face Price, who was grinning like a klieg light, his face slightly obstructed by a smudge of dirt that ran across his face like a lightning bolt.

John didn't want his embrace to end but he obliged, separating Grace only slightly by arms length to introduce Price.

"Price, this is my wife Grace. Gracie, this man has saved my hind more than I can count."

To both men's surprise, Grace leapt into Price's arms, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for bringing him home to me."

Two spots of colour warmed Price's cheeks, rendering the strong man as weak as a kitten. "It was my pleasure Ma'am."

He then turned to John. "Soap, she is absolutely delightful. Every man should have a beautiful woman to come home to.

"Some of us weren't so lucky," he said, scanning his eyes over the relatives around him, crying over their fallen men who lie cold in their caskets.

"Did you lose many men?" Grace asked.

Both men shared a sad glance, recalling all too well the cries, blood and tears of their fallen comrades.

"Too many," John said.

That night John relished the warmth of the woman in his arms. His heart ached with so much unconditional love he thought it would burst. Grace slept like a child, her warm naked body touching his. They had silently made love in the confines of their private tent. His stomach tossed and grumbled nervously as she undressed, his eyes falling over every curve of her body. As he joined their bodies, John felt his hardened persona soften, opening up to her which she took with greedy hands. He relished the feel of her against him, responding to her warmth and movement of her body. She felt so perfect in his arms, as if it was meant to be all along. He was calling for her, his eyes and body screaming, releasing a fervour that ran through them like live wire. Then it was over.

As they lay in a soft embrace, he mumbled, "I love you". She rolled on top of him, gently brushing the side of his face with the back of her hand. "I love you, John." Her hair sat on her head like a wild mane, falling over her face in amber tendrils. Her eyes were like a deep pool in which John hoped he would be forever lost. She had never looked so beautiful like the way she did now. John felt his heart soften, aching this moment will never end.

Earlier that morning, as Grace slept more soundly, John snuck out to go to the bathroom block that was 10 metres away. She stirred and woke disturbed, to see her husband duck out of the tent as a black silhouette. A smile curved at her lips. He was a different man from the one she left back home in Scotland. He had become a man hardened, a man only known to war. She saw flickers of his old self in his eyes when they made love. They had shimmered and then disappeared as if they had never come. She hoped with a heavy heart that the man she married, the man she loved wasn't gone forever.

Ten minutes later, a black figure entered the tent with such finesse; at first Grace didn't see him. She was on her stomach, her back facing the door. She smiled into her pillow as she felt the man's nearness. "I was beginning to wonder if a block hole had swallowed you up."

When the man didn't respond, she spun around, only to see two dark figures hovering over her. As a scream escaped her lips, one big hand covered her face, replacing her screams with a piece of material shoved into her mouth.

Panic began to overwrought her body as the man climbed on top of her, using his body weight to secure her in her place. As his mate kept watch at the door, Grace watched with horror as he unzipped his pants and shoved her into place, entering her with such force Grace let out a small whimper. Tears now blocked her sight, but she didn't fight back knowing it was futile. She had seen an outline of a weapon with the man at the door. As her rapist thrust more violently, she started to kick, the adrenaline in her body pulsing like a raging river. In response, he grabbed a pistol from his side and bought it down on the side of her head, rendering Grace completely hopeless.

It seemed the attack lasted an hour, knowing the men were only in and out of the tent in less than 5 minutes. To mark his passing, the figure thrust once more, earning a sob from his victim. In less than a minute, they were gone, leaving Grace crying and withering in pain. In that moment, John entered the tent, attempting to be as quiet as he could. He searched the bed to see if Grace was still awake but his blood ran cold as he saw a crumpled figure between the sheets.

When he saw her, a sense of hopelessness robbed him of his strength. She was cowering and whimpering like a small dog, attempting to hide her injuries from him. He ran to her, falling to his knees as he examined her. "Baby, what happened?"

She mumbled her response at first than tried again, saying one word that garnered a hardened anger to develop deep from within him. "Rape." He was going to tear the man responsible apart.

"Can you stand?" he asked, slowly rising to his feet, gently brushing a strand of hair from her eyes as he helped off her the bed. Immediately her legs gave away, falling into his arms like a limp doll. John picked her up, laying her horizontally in his arms.

Leaving the tent, he garnered a lot of attention from the other soldiers who poked their heads out from their tents in curiosity.

As John passed, Ghost's head emerged from his tent, "What's going on Soap?" then his eyes caught the limp body of his wife in his arms. "Holy fuck Soap, what happened?"

John ignored him, walking a straight beeline for the infirmary. He felt like he was in a daze, his surroundings blurred by hurt, love and anger.

"She is stable," the doctor told John later. "I gave her some sedatives to calm her down. She has some internal injuries, some tears around her genital area but she will improve."

John stood beside his wife, feeling chained to the floor. His heart ached for her, feeling so helpless at her condition. He dreaded the next question. "What about...pregnancy?"

The doctor averted his eyes to the sleeping woman in the bed below them. "I gave her a morning after pill," he paused when he saw the soldier's face visibly crumble. "However if you have conceived, the child would be lost."

Resentment began to bubble like acid in John's belly. The animal who raped his wife also killed his child. He suddenly felt enclosed and pressed down the howl that was creeping into his throat. Instead he slumped to the chair that was besides Grace's bed. He didn't hear the doctor leave or Price quietly entering the room.

"Soap?"  
John didn't respond or turn around. Price came to his side, weary of the damaged man sitting on the chair. "Soap, I heard what happened. I'm so sorry."

John again didn't respond so Price crouched to his level and delicately put his hand on the big man's shoulder. "We will find them whoever did this. Everyone is upset; Grace is like a sister to all of us."

"I'll rip the man's throat out with my own two hands," John mumbled.

Price didn't know how to respond. He didn't condemn useless and avenged murder but if it was his own wife lying in that bed, he probably would have done the same.

"You know I can't allow you to hunt this man down."

It was then that John decided to roar to his feet, shoving his face into his captain's. "Like hell I can't! Those men crept onto OUR base, specifically targeting my wife and fucking raped her! I will track these men down until one of us is dead!"

He then turned to leave but Price grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face him. "I don't think Grace would want you to put yourself in danger to avenge her."

He could see softness creep into the man's face at the mention of his wife. "I feel so helpless Price. I shouldn't have left her."

Later that morning, the mess hall was a buzz of rumours and whispers. The soldiers were aghast and angry at the thought of an enemy creeping onto their base to rape one of their women, let alone the wife of a captain. Some agreed behind closed doors that it was a risk bringing her to the base but many disagreed, believing the presence of a woman reminded them of home. Many claimed revenge, as Grace had become part of their brotherhood. The soldiers were now her bodyguards, keeping watch outside her room in the infirmary and reassuring John in secrecy he would get his revenge.

Ghost sat by himself at a table, toying with the mashed potato on his plate. He had visited Grace with Soap's blessing earlier that day and felt sick someone could do something so heinous to his best friend's wife but marvelled how they managed to get onto a heavily secured army base undetected. Guilt nipped at him, knowing he was only 5 feet away from her and he couldn't do anything.

Behind him sat four young soldiers recalling the events of that morning. "I never knew he had a wife."

"He never mentioned her to me."

"How many men were in her room? Were they from our base?"

"I haven't seen her. Is she hot?"

Ghost chose that moment to intervene. Swinging his legs over the bench so he faced the men, he quipped, "I will be careful on what you say about Mrs MacTavish. The Captain will not tolerate the conversation you boys are having."

"Sorry Captain," one of the sheepish soldiers said. "We were just curious. Captain MacTavish never mentioned a wife before. He doesn't even wear a wedding ring."

Ghost bought a small smile to his lips as he remembered his own wife, wishing him goodbye the day he flew out. "She is a part of him he wanted to keep to himself. Why would he want to squabble to a bunch of blokes like you about his woman?"

"Did you go to the wedding?"

Ghost remained quiet, not knowing if it was wise to answer the young man's question. "Yes I did and it was beautiful."

Ghost visited the infirmary in the afternoon, knowing Soap had not left his spot on the chair. He entered quietly not wanting to disturb them. Soap didn't notice him until he was by his side. "How is she doing?"

The man didn't look up at his friend, keeping his eyes firmly on his sleeping wife instead. "She is doing better. The doctor said she will make a full recovery."

"Do they know who did this?"

The heat of suppressed anger began to resurface in John's heart. "No, but I heard reports there is a small task force of Russians nearby."

"Do you think Makrov is involved?"

"I bloody hope not because when I find who is responsible, there will be nothing left."

"Get in line," Ghost quipped.


End file.
